Reason for living
by turn2stone
Summary: Red John was dead. His sole purpose of living was dead. What did he have to live for now?


_**I found episode 5x02 to be very painful. The whole hallucinating daughter deal was heart wrenching. By the time the episode ended, I was wondering what would he do once Red John was dead, seeing that he had effectively made hunting him down his life. So I ended up writing this down. This takes place on the day Red John is killed (I hope very painfully). Nothing is mine except for Zei. Do let me know what you think of it.**_

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It was five in the evening. The park was bursting with life. Children running about in their games, the elderly strolling around the shady paved paths. In all it was a picture of fun and joy.

But he felt nothing, he saw nothing. His gaze was fixed at his hands. Yet his mind was elsewhere. His subconscious played the same thing in a loop- Red John was dead. His sole purpose of living was dead. What did he have to live for now?

He was startled out of his self wallowing when someone poked him on his shoulder. Squinting against the evening sun, his eyes locked with a pair of chocolate brown ones- A stranger's eyes.

"Oh, you're human!"

"As opposed to?" he asked in irritation.

"Well you could have been a statue or I'd go with a really good mannequin."

"You were wrong." he was in no mood to talk. Anyone could see that from miles away. Who the hell was she and why was she channeling his spirit all of a sudden.

"Obviously. I mean I'm not that crazy to be talking to inanimate objects," came the cheerful reply.

"You mean to say that you are some what crazy?" Was she high? Who talks to random strangers like that. He looked at her properly for the first time.

She was a petite figure. Features none descriptive- except for a beaming smile, he noted sullenly. Dressed in sneakers, dark jeans and T- shirt. Her long dark hair pulled into a pony tail and a guitar strapped to her back. All in all totally plain except for the multiple ear piercings and the tattoo on the side of her neck. She seemed to be in in her early twenties if he had to guess. She smirked at his scrutiny.

"Aren't we all crazy in some way or the other?"

"Your craziness compels you to chat up to strangers? I could be a perp for all you know."

"Naah, you look like someone who prefers exercising his brain than his body. If it makes you feel any better, I'm proficient in three different types of martial arts."

"So that makes it OK for you to go poke any random person?"

"You're just hoping I'd get miffed and leave you alone. Well, you need to up your game, patience is something I don't lack."

"Then maybe I should go."

"If you knew where, you would have been long gone. Yet, here you sit engaged in a game of nonsense with a random stranger."

"And you have come to this conclusion because?" He doesn't like it. She may not know what she is talking about. Heck he's sure she's just rambling to piss him off; but her words did strike a nerve.

"You have that look," she simply replied as that mere statement explained it all.

He frowned. Infuriating- that's what she was, rather like him. " I doubt if I have the I'm lost look." Two could play this game.

"Is that what they call it these days?"

"Seen your so called look before?"

"Once. Ten years back, on this very day. Though it was near noon then," came the reply.

She was irritating and he could feel the beginning of a headache. She knew nothing. She could comprehend nothing of what he had gone through. If only she would leave him alone. " If I change my look; would you leave?" He knew he was being rude. But he was beyond caring, he just wanted her gone.

"Our faces are liars."

"What do you mean?" Could she not give a straight answer for once?

"We wear the masks that the public expect, yet in our hearts we die everyday." More riddles. Yet he could not help but confirm how close to home she had struck. Had he not known better, he would have admitted that finally he had met a psychic.

"You mean to say that no matter what I do, I'll still feel the same?"

"Won't you?"

"You could be more direct." Really was this payback for all the crap he had put Lisbon through?

"Would that work? We humans like a bit of razzle and dazzle."

"Go bother someone who cares," he chidded.

Her expression never shifted; but she simply moved to his side and sat down next to him. She pulled her guitar onto her lap and started strumming at it.

He could leave. He was under no obligation to sit by her side. There were other empty benches in the park. Yet he found himself looking at her. He could not will himself to leave. She was a picture of tranquility; sitting with her eyes closed, playing soft, soothing melodies on her strings.

"I'm Patrick," he blurted out.

"Zei," came back the reply.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty two."

"Do you really know three types of martial arts?" He was genuinely curious.

"Judo, Akido and Kung fu."

"Hobby?"

"This is my hobby," she said as she plucked on the strings. "Martial arts is my day job. Friend has a studio. I teach ."

"Teacher, you're pretty young."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. What do you do, Patrick?"

"Consultant for the CBI." Some how his words lacked conviction, even to his own ears.

"But you have decided against going back there tomorrow."

"I haven't! Wait, why are you saying that?"

"The look, Patrick. Remember?"

The annoyance was back ten folds. " You're still hung on the look? Can't I be having a bad day?" he snapped.

She gave a hollow humorless laugh. She put down her guitar and turned to face him; all the cheerfulness removed from her face. "I don't know you Patrick. I don't know how wonderful or horrid your day has been. But that look I do know. It scares me, gives me sleepless nights. Its my worst memory. My mother wore that look; wore it for days before she dosed herself with a cocktail of drugs. I could do nothing to stop her 'cause she had me duct taped to a chair. She told me that I should see what I had led her to do. How my being was such a big curse to her life. How I should be responsible for my actions. I could do nothing while I watched her froth from her mouth and lose her life." She sighed and took a deep breath before continuing, "I was twelve that day; and today when I saw you, I was twelve again."

He was speechless. He had behaved like a jerk. He did not know what to say. What do you tell a person who had been through hell. Any condolence would be half assed, he knew that from personal experience. "It would be insulting to say I'm sorry," he said finally.

"Then don't. Instead find a reason to live, to be happy. Show the world that they are wrong. Prove me wrong by choosing to live."

"My reason for living is dead," he confessed.

"Find another reason." The solution seemed so simple.

"What do you live for?" A challenge?

The reply was instantaneous. "My wonderful students, four of them will be graduating this year. My friends who teach with me. The autistic girl near my flat who dances to my music. The Korean grandparents down the street to whom I teach English. Nana who lets me bake with her, even though I usually make a mess. Mostly I live for myself. I do things that make me happy and make the people around me happy. Stuff that prove to me everyday that I am not the curse my mother said I was. I live to prove her wrong." her expression was calm and serene when she was done. With that, she picked up her guitar and resumed playing.

Her words struck him. Hard. He did have something to live for. His team, his surrogate family. Lisbon... his Lisbon. The wonderful, stubborn person who stood by his side and asked for nothing in return. He knew he did not deserve her, never in a hundred life times. But she did, she deserved what she wanted, and she wanted him. He knew that. He was a fool to think otherwise. She always got what she wanted. Who was he to deny her? He was a fool to think other wise. He chuckled. All his dilemmas vanished into thin air. He had her. He had her to live for. To be happy, to prove that Red John could not completely destroy him, to ultimately put his past to rest. He had never felt so light before. It was as if the weight on his shoulders had lifted. He laughed. Out loud. He knew people were staring. He simply did not care. She was looking at him. He could not make out her expression. She could have been thinking that he had finally lost his marbles; he did not care. Before he knew it, he had pulled her into a hug. She stiffened, just for a moment before she hugged him back as well. When he pulled back, her eyes were wet but the smile on her lips was beautiful. "I'm gonna hazard a guess that you have somewhere to be," she said.

He simply nodded and got up from the bench. He wanted to tell her a lot of things. Thank you. I'm sorry. Will we see each other again. Will you be alright. But nothing came out of his mouth.

She smiled. "I'm here every weekend around five, its a good place to unwind. Now get going."

He did not need to be told twice.


End file.
